by Scott Christopher BeeBe
we divide the kids like cars
and now I’m off course
hit the deck
nothing is left
inside my breast
wicked like nicked snickering
on the playground at my
expense – derived
by things done &
said – nothing’s meant
no blushed downlight at sunrise;
eventide can’t hold me
any attempts
met with anguished
darkened guitars
sparse diseased language you’d
brewed & spewed out at me
echoes indoors
& down hallways
frosty past spring
that time I’d been shunned in
London downplays all this
drama’s stanzas –
the cancer in
me soon comes due
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing